Blades of Blood
by Angelic Samurai
Summary: "If you were gonna be by yourself, you should've carried a blade." What if Ponyboy HAD been carrying a blade? Violence and Slash.
1. Part I: Those who fight back

A/N: Listening to songs makes me remember little things from the movie, and that's exactly what happened with this little number.

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing, shounen-ai – the usual. Any one of those disturb you? There's a back button up there, click on it.

Notes: If you want, listen to "Die Alive" by Tarja as well as "From the Inside" by Linkin Park. It would help set the mood of this better. Also, the title is not stolen from Inuyasha. I just decided it fits.

Pairing: Dallas/Ponyboy, though if you squint, there could be some Johnny/Ponyboy.

Enjoy the first part!

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><p><em>Blades of Blood<br>Part I: Those who fight back_

I tossed a hacky sack as scenes from the movie that I watched at the movie house flooded through my mind. My oldest brother always complained that I had a horrible grip on time, but that was only because I got so absorbed into the movie that I lost track. I guess that qualifies as horrible grip on time, but I like to call it in depth observation. With some movies, if you don't give all of your attention to it, you miss little things and then are completely confused afterwards. I grinned, 'cause when some people complain that the movie was horrible, they had just missed some key scenes when they were off talking to their friends.

I felt a rock hit me upside the head, and, looking up in annoyance, I saw some Socs up above, throwing rocks at me. I looked around to see if there was anything I could throw back at them, and when I saw a stick, I grinned, picked it up, and threw it as hard as I could back at them. I vaguely heard them cursing as the throwing stopped, so I resumed throwing the hacky sack up and down. It was good for stress relief.

I got so absorbed in the activity that I didn't even notice that I was in civilization. I continued tossing the hacky sack as I approached my house, unaware of the mustang that was slowly approaching me. Only when I heard the screech of tires did I turn my head, and narrowly avoid getting sideswiped when they made a harsh left near my leg.

My pulse pounded loudly in my ears as I ran as best I could from the Socs. It was obvious that cars are faster than humans, and they soon jumped out and cornered me. I bit the inside my cheek as they approached me, mumbling about how I shouldn't have thrown the stick at them, and that I was a bad boy. That disturbed me, so when they made a grab for me, I avoided and tried to run off.

Four is better than one, and soon they had me pinned to the ground with a switchblade to my neck. "Let's give 'em a haircut, boys!" One of them said as he smirked down at me, digging the switchblade into my temple. "Maybe I'll start here...or maybe here!" he cut my neck, and I pushed him off with a yell of pain. "Get 'em, boys!"

I felt something digging into my leg, and reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out a switchblade. Confusion filled my mind for a moment before I realized where exactly this came from. It had come from none other than Dallas Winston. I vaguely recalled him slipping it into my back pocket, and a harsh whisper in my ear. _"Use this ta defend yourself, kid."_

My cheeks went red hot as I remembered that he had, ahem, squeezed me in an inappropriate place, but now wasn't the time to be remembering that. The Socs approached me, unaware of the blade that was in my hand. I felt blood trickle down my neck, which fuelled my resolve. I wasn't one to use weapons on a person, but this was the exception. I pointed the switchblade at them, which stopped them dead in their tracks. "Don't move, or I'll stick some holes in ya."

The Soc that had the switchblade in his hand laughed. "Lookie here, grease is threatening us!" He came towards me, despite the fact that the switchblade was in my hand. "Lesse who's better at using a blade, huh?"

I barely had time to blink before he jumped on me, his blade cutting into wherever skin it could reach. I fought back with my own blade, feeling it sink into the Soc's skin, until he fell on me with his blade sticking out of my shoulder. His buddies ran away in their mustang, and I panted heavily, feeling blood soak through my clothes. I pushed the Soc off me, and with horror, noticed my blade sticking out of his throat. With a shaky hand, I pulled it out, his blood splashing onto my face.

I just laid there with the dead Soc lying next to me. I felt too weak to move, although when I noticed all of the blood around me, I wasn't surprised. Most of it was mine, as I had only managed to stab the Soc in the arm and the throat, which had killed him. He was more skilled, as he had cut my face, stomach, sides, and my shoulder, where the blade was sticking out.

Footfalls came suddenly, and I saw a familiar dark face with pitch black hair looming over me. "Ponyboy? What the heck happened to you?" Johnny looked at the dead Soc, and shuddered noticeably. "You...you killed him, didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah." I managed to croak out, resisting the urge to scream when Johnny gently helped me into a sitting position. "Jesus Johnny, that hurts."

My best friend looked at me apologetically as he swung my arm over his shoulder and helped me to stand. "You have to see a doctor, and fast." he noticed the blade sticking out of my shoulder, and his dark eyes widened. I weakly thought that he looked like a deer trapped in headlights. "My god, how are we going to get that out?"

I chuckled quietly as Johnny slowly dragged me back to my house. "B-Beats me...pull it out?"

"Hell no! That'd make it worse." Johnny quickly retaliated as he continued dragging me. "What happened, anyway? You never answered that."

As best as I could, I explained the whole story to my best friend. That I was walking home from the movies, how I threw a stick at the Socs, and eventually how they had tried to jump me. Johnny nodded as I finished my story, but he still had a puzzled look on his face. "So...Dally gave you that switchblade to defend yourself? I guess he assumed you wouldn't use it. Proved him wrong, didn't ya?"

I coughed, and it was then that I noticed the copper taste invading my mouth. I spit out blood as I answered "Y...Yeah, I guess I did."

It seemed like years when I noticed my house approaching. Despite the peeling wallpaper and the junk around it, it was like heaven had just shined down on me. Johnny let me go only to open the gate, and then his arm was wrapped around me again as he was leading me into the house. I handed him the key when he cursed that the door was locked, and we stepped inside.

The house smelled like chocolate cake, a welcoming smell. My best friend gently set me down on the couch as he raced into the bathroom to get our first aid kit. It had seen plenty of uses, that first aid kit. Whenever Darry had pulled his back muscles from working too hard, Soda had used the heating pad to help with the pain. When Soda broke his arm a few years back, that first aid kit was used to make a makeshift cast. Now, it was being used on me, the youngest brother. I was temporarily amused to realize that the kit was used in the order of oldest-middle-youngest, but the amusement was dampened with pain as the switchblade made itself known that it was lodged in my shoulder. I hissed and tried to pull it out, but that only resulted in the worst pain I ever felt in my life.

Johnny returned with the first aid kit, and his dark eyes narrowed when he noticed the tears leaking out of my eyes. He quickly took out some kind of disinfectant and a cotton ball, and he soaked the cotton with the disinfectant before gently patting the area around the switchblade. It stung like hell, but I grit my teeth and bared it as he continued patting the area.

He placed his dark hands on various parts of my body (I assumed he was trying to find the spots where the injuries were), before the door slammed open. "Hey, anybody here?" a voice spoke up, and I instantly recognized the voice as Dally. I heard a loud curse and running footfalls before a hand set itself on my shoulder. "Johnny, what the fuck happened ta the kid!"

My best friend trembled a bit at Dally's yelling, but he regained his composure and wasted no time in answering the hood. "He got jumped by the Socs and defended himself. One of them is dead because he stuck a switchblade that you gave him in his throat."

Dally looked at him, and I noticed concern in his icy depths, along with...panic? I couldn't classify the emotion, but by the way his hand tightened on my shoulder, I knew it was what I had guessed. "Jesus Christ. Where the hell are his brothers? We haveta get 'em to a hospital." His ice blue eyes glued themselves to the switchblade sticking out of my shoulder, and the hood cursed. "How the fuck... How are they going to get that out?"

"I wondered that myself." Johnny mumbled as he started dabbing the cotton on my left side. "Dally, call Darry. We haveta hurry; we're losin' him."

I had no idea what Johnny was talking about. They were losing me? Sure, they were getting blurry, but I was still here. My limbs felt like they were weighed down by fifty tons of lead as Dally ran towards our phone and dialled what I assumed to be Darry's work. Both of their voices were becoming quieter as my eyes started to close shut against my will. The last thing I remember was Dally whispering "It's gonna be okay kid, it's gonna be fine..." before I slipped into the black abyss of my mind.

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><p>I'm planning on only making this a two shot, but who knows where my muse will lead me. If there were any errors, whether with personality or grammar, please don't hesitate to let me know.<p> 


	2. Part II: Plotting Revenge

After over a year, my muse returned to me for this story, and I managed to type it in two sittings lasting a month. I decided that this will last longer than two chapters. Let's hope that what happened with Silent Moon won't happen with this. Stupid technology crashing and losing two thousand plus words of a chapter.

**Warnings:** Language, blood, mentions of violence.

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><p><strong>Blades of Blood<br>**Part II: Plotting Revenge

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><p>The Curtis house was in sight, and it was a welcome one. I had an argument with Sylvia about the stupid broad cheating on me while I was in prison, and I decided I was done with her stupid games. Sure, she was fine when I was not in the cooler, but when I was, she went off and opened her legs to every fuckin' guy out there, or so it seemed. Fuckin' bitch.<p>

I was surprised when I saw that the gate to the house was open, but I figured that one of the gang or the Curtis boys had returned home. It was unlikely to be the older Curtis brothers, 'cause they were still at work, so it was either Ponyboy or one of the gang. Shrugging my shoulders, I walked through the open gate, but my sharp eyes noticed a splotch of red on the ground. I quirked an eyebrow at that, wonderin' who the hell was bleedin' all over the place as I stepped into the house, hollerin' out "Hey, anybody here?"

In an instant, my eyes averted to the figure on the couch, and the other tending to their wounds. A blade was sticking out of their shoulder; it was obvious that it was causin' the guy a handful of pain because his facial expression gave it all away. I cursed, realizing that the guy on the couch was none other than the youngest Curtis boy, and ran over to them, setting a hand on Pony's shoulder before kneeling down next to him. "Johnny, what the fuck happened ta the kid?!"

I felt bad at raising my voice and causing the boy to shudder, but at this moment, my anger was winning out over being quiet. Johnnycakes regained his composure within a few seconds, answering my question while tending to Pony's multiple cuts and bruises. "He got jumped by the Socs and defended himself. One of them is dead because he stuck a switchblade you gave him in his throat."

'He defended himself with the switchblade I gave 'em? That's a surprise.' I thought to myself, looking over at the tanned boy while tightening my grip on the youngest member of our gangs' shoulder. "Jesus Christ. Where the hell are his brothers? We haveta get 'em to a hospital." I took my eyes from Johnnycake to stare at the switchblade lodged into the auburn's shoulder, fighting the urge to wince; it was deeper in his flesh than I thought. "How the fuck… How are they going to get that out?"

Johnny heaved a quiet sigh before mumbling, "I was wondering that myself." He dabbed more cotton at Pony's left side, his eyes looking at the boy's face, surprise mixed with concern in his dark depths. "Dally, call Darry. We haveta hurry; we're losin' 'em."

I noticed that the kid was nodding off, which was bad, considerin' the ghastly injuries he had. I stood up, took a glance at the boy, and clenched my first before going to the telephone. Whoever did this to Pony had hell to pay; the ones that were still alive, that is. I know I shouldn't feel proud of the kid killin' a stupid Soc, but I am. I didn't want to know what would have happened if he wasn't carrying a blade.

The ringing seemed to go on forever before Superman's boss answered the phone. "Hello?"

"I'm lookin' for Darry Curtis. It's an emergency."

"One moment please." his boss replied, and the line was silent.

'C'mon, hurry up!' I screamed inwardly, resisting the urge to cuss. I knew it wouldn't help in this situation, but it sure did help to let out anger. I clenched and unclenched my fist, but after what seemed like eternity, the phone clicked. 'What was he doin', workin' on the top of a building?' It was possible, but it didn't help my annoyance any.

"Who is it?" Darry's rough voice asked, but I could tell that he was tired as well. I would be as well if I was him, but now's not the time for that.

"Superman, Ponyboy got jumped." I heard the older Curtis brother cuss with an enraged tone to his voice, but I went on. "He has a fuckin' blade stickin' out of his shoulder, but he killed one of 'em with his own blade. Ya have ta take 'em to the hospital, and fast. I would get Soda to go with ya."

"We'll be there within twenty." Superman replied, his voice seething as he hung up. I put the phone back on its cradle and walked over to the two boys, but I noticed that Pony was closer to driftin' off than he was in the, eh, was it five? minutes that I talked to Darry.

I knelt down in front of him, and my hand returned to its original position on his shoulder. "It's okay kid, it's gonna be fine…" I whispered to 'em, and I could tell he heard me, because a small smile went on his face before it was obvious that he had dropped off. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." I cussed for several minutes, but Johnny continued treating whatever wounds he could with the first aid kit. "Johnnycakes, how was he when you found 'em?"

The tanned boy continued on with treating the wounds for a minute before answering, "Horrible. He was lying on the ground, blood everywhere. The dead Soc was next to him, a gaping hole in his throat. I don't think Pony was fully there when I found 'em. I was able to talk to 'em, but his eyes—they looked like he wasn't all there. You saw that blood outside, right? That was his blood."

"You gotta be kiddin'." I grit my teeth, red hot anger pulsing through my veins. The fuckin' Socs who jumped him turned him into a stuck pig, with so many damn cuts on his body. His face had a few bruises as well, and it fueled my anger even further. "Those fuckin' Socs are gonna pay for this. You better believe that they'll fuckin' pay."

"Yeah." was Johnnycake's simple reply as he lifted up Pony's shirt. His eyes widened at the gashes there, and he closed them before getting out more cotton balls with disinfectant. He dabbed and cleaned the wounds as best he could, but as he was doing that, I noticed that there was at least ten cotton balls covered in blood.

I breathed through my nose, determined to not explode in front of Johnny, yet hearing the truck pull up to the yard distracted me from my anger long enough to see the two older Curtis brothers get out of the truck and run into the house. Soda was the first to get in, and he did a double take at the blade sticking out of his baby brother's shoulder. His face paled before he breathed a shaky sigh, and he walked over to Pony, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Dammit. How the hell did this happen?"

"Johnny was the one who found 'em. Ask 'em." I replied, narrowing my eyes to control my anger.

The middle Curtis brother nodded before he bombarded Johnnycakes with questions, and the pet of our gang answered 'em as best he could with the knowledge he had. I could tell Superman was behind me, and I turned my head, meeting the seething eyes of the oldest brother. His fist was clenched at his side, and his face was dark, anger pulsing off 'em in waves. It was a bad idea to cross Darry when he was this angry, and this was something that everyone knew. "We haveta be careful when we take 'em in the truck. One wrong move could make that blade get in more than it already is."

Darry nodded curtly as he walked up to his baby brother, picking him up easily before walking back to the truck. Soda ran after him, talking to the auburn in low tones as he went. Johnny looked at the various cotton balls covered in blood, and he closed his eyes, lowering his head. I figured that seeing his best friend look like the Soc punching bag—or should I say cutting bag—was hard on 'em, so I sat next to 'em, pattin' his shoulder. "Kid's tough as nails like the rest of us. He'll be fine." Under my breath, I muttered, "I hope."

"You're right." Johnny mumbled, raising a hand to his forehead. An exhausted look passed over his face, and I ruffled his hair in a half-hearted attempt to cheer him up. He gave a small smile, as if thankin' me for trying to cheer 'em up, and stood up. "C'mon. We should follow 'em to the hospital."

"You got it, Johnnycakes." I took a final look at the horror that had become the Curtis couch. It was covered in the kid's blood, and there were now at least thirteen cotton balls covered with it. I clenched my fist and felt my lip pull back into a snarl. "They'll fuckin' pay for doin' this ta the kid. He didn't do a fuckin' thing to deserve this."

"I know." Johnny whispered as he lowered his head. It was obvious to anyone who knew 'em that he was getting upset, so I sighed before wrapping my arms around the gang's pet. I sucked with emotional people, but Johnnycakes was one of my closest friends, so I could at least attempt being emotionally supportive. I think he knew that I was awkward with this whole thing, but his hands still clutched my leather jacket as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs. I had no idea what to do, so I just gave his head an awkward pat before I gently pried him off after a couple of minutes. "Thanks, Dal." he mumbled, embarrassment in his tone.

"Nah, don't say sorry. That's what friends are for, right? We all gotta look out for each other."

"Yeah…" Johnny gave a half-hearted smile as he pushed open the door. "Let's get goin'. We should be there if—"

"Don't fuckin' say it." I hissed, stepping out into the crisp autumn air. I saw Johnny flinch as he stepped out as well, so I heaved a sigh before ruffling his black hair. "Don't look at me like that, kid. We gotta think positive, all right?"

Johnny cocked his head to the side, and I could tell he was surprised at what I said. 'What? I'm not always a huge ball of negativity.' I rolled at my eyes before I started to make the long trek to the hospital, and the second youngest of the gang followed me after a few seconds of staring at me. "Positivity goes a long way in situations like this, I suppose." he said after a few minutes of silent walking. "Are you okay?"

I narrowed my eyes. What the hell did he mean by "are you okay?" Did I look not okay or somethin'? "I'm fine, Johnnycakes. What makes ya think that I'm not?"

"The fact that you're being silent, the fact you have a thoughtful look on your face, and the fact you're biting your lip."

I blinked as I realized that I was biting my lip. I grit my teeth and willed myself to stop. "Yeah, well, I'm fine. I'm thinkin' of the many ways I can kill those Soc bastards."

"Sure." Johnny muttered, and the subject was dropped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. "You don't have to lie to yourself, ya know. If you like him that way, none of us are going to be disgusted with you. I think Darry and Soda would be happy that someone like you would protect Pony. We all know that he gets lost in his daydreams and his books." He chuckled at that. "When he beats this, or when he's all there, tell him. It'll be worse if you don't tell him."

"…God damn, Johnny." I mumbled, more to myself. I guess it was true that the quietest ones were just observin' their surroundings and the people around 'em. It was a bit unnerving how Johnny figured out how I felt about the kid, 'cause I considered myself a closed book to everyone, even those that I was closest to. After a minute of silence, I shrugged. "I might tell 'em, or I might not. Right now, he has to focus on recoverin'. Maybe then I'll tell 'em."

We continued our trek ta the hospital in silence before a car pulled up to us, and Two-Bit's head poked out from the window. "Hey Dal, Johnny! Darry called me and explained what happened. Get in!"

I smirked. 'This is better than walkin'.' I thought as the two of us got in the car. Two-Bit nodded from the front seat, vroomed the engine, and sped off. "We have to let those damn Socs know that they can't hurt one of us this badly without some 'punishment'." I said. The smirk widened on my face as I thought of pounding the Socs skulls into the pavement, along with various other violent ways of kickin' the shit out of 'em. "A rumble. For hurtin' Pone, we're gonna bash their fuckin' faces in."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Two-Bit hollered, and Johnny nodded. "You're goin' down, ya white trash!"

Those Socs would never know what hit 'em.

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><p><strong><em>TBC.<em>**


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